The city was bathed in the golden hues of twilight as Seraphiel walked down the cobbled streets, the scent of rain still lingering from an earlier storm. His robes, now replaced with simple mortal clothing—an off-white linen shirt and dark trousers—fluttered slightly as a cold wind brushed past him.
And then he saw her.
The woman with the crimson hair.
His heart, or whatever angels had in place of one, tightened in his chest. He had seen her before—many times. At first, he thought it was coincidence, but now he was certain that fate was weaving their paths together.
She always seemed to slip away the moment she noticed him. He had tried to speak with her before. At first, he thought she was simply uninterested, but the way she hurried off whenever he drew near—it wasn’t avoidance. It was something else.
Tonight, that feeling was stronger than ever.
Something was off about her.
She walked ahead of him, her dark lace dress moving like shadows in the dimming light. The air around her carried an aura he couldn’t place, something unfamiliar yet oddly… familiar. As if he should know.
His instincts told him to let her go. But his heart disagreed.
He quickened his pace. “Wait!”
The woman halted. Slowly, she turned to face him, her piercing green eyes meeting his golden ones.
“You need to stay away from me,” her voice quiet yet firm.
Seraphiel frowned. “Why? I don’t even know your name.”
“You don’t need to,” she replied, glancing away as if this conversation was already a mistake. “Just forget about me.”
“I can’t.” His voice was soft, filled with something raw. He had never felt this way before. Was this what mortals called longing? His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to reach for her, though he didn’t know why. She sighed, almost as if she knew this would happen. “For your own good, you should stay away.” “Why?” He took another step. “You don’t even know me.” “Oh, but I do.” The words sent a strange chill down his spine. Her gaze lingered on him, a look not of fear, but of knowing.